


Space Order Bride

by calvinahobbes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dramedy, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Lesbians in Space, Mail Order Brides, Space Opera, Space Stations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To escape the shady Conglomeration, hacker Liz Dee ships herself off to an orbiting space station as Shay Dax's mail order bride. No one is amused except the author.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just silly origfic written for my own amusement. I am posting as I write. I have more than a vague idea of what will happen, but I cannot guarantee I will actually finish this, fair warning.

The trouble was that the Conglomeration had eyes everywhere, so when the digital ground started burning under her she ran out of hidey holes fast. It was only a short rush before she was bunked up on Aisha's couch.

"You have got to get off-planet, Liz," she said, arms folded, body tight as if she was trying to contain her irritation.

Liz sighed, lacing her hands behind her head. "I mean... On the one hand, yes. But how am I going to get a travel permit, _much less_ a residence permit for anywhere in this crummy galaxy with Glom crawling up my butt?" 

Aisha gave her a disconcertingly thoughtful stare. "Maybe you need to think off-off-planet." She pulled out her tablet and dropped down next to Liz. "I'm doing some admin work for a marriage license issuer. Turns out business is booming on the sat circuit." She wiggled her eyebrows. Liz stared. "Apparently space stations are lonely postings, and the dating pool is severely limited. Most contracts run for _years_. If you run out of potential dates on-site the only way to get fresh blood is to bring in a spouse."

Liz felt an ominous roiling sensation in the pit of her stomach. "What are you talking about? You want me to marry some sat goon? Hello, screaming dyke here, I believe we've met before?" 

"You are so narrow-minded, Lizzie Dee," Aisha scoffed. 

"Don't call me that," she mumbled with a pout, brushing Aisha's scarf of her shoulder and looking down at the tablet.

"It's not like it's just burley dudes up there. There are loads of different jobs, and some of the stations are 50% female or higher. I was just processing a license for a DestiStation Match dot con."

Liz groaned and hid her face behind her hand. 

"I know right? It's great! They must be swimming in it. I bet if we just..." 

It didn't take Aisha many minutes to crack the matchmaking site and get a list of potential candidates. "Alright, this one is all business: 'Match must be feminine and ready to handle most of the housework. Plenty of down-time for non-smelly non-noisy leisure activities.' You'd be perfect."

"What! I'm not feminine _or_ good at housework!"

Aisha snorted. "You don't say."

"Hey! We did okay!" Aisha's silence was disconcertingly telling. "But that's not the point! I can't just lure some sorry old dyke into marrying me. What will happen when she gets an eyeful of this? I'll be out on my ass and inside a cell before you can say 'fraudulent misrepresentation'."

All the while she was protesting, Aisha never stopped hacking. "Well, for one thing this one is not old; she's actually younger than you, and second of all... why if it isn't a juvenile record! I bet if you explain that you're a fugitive from injustice she'll understand." Liz stared incredulously at the code on the screen. "Anyway, it won't matter what she says. In order to get a spousal residence permit, the marriage has to be in effect before you set foot on the space station. Basically, once you're there there's nothing either of you can do. Supply runs are every 9 months, so there'll be no way out."

"Well, that's not disconcerting at all," she mumbled. "What if she's a freak? What if I'm stuck with a deviant who wants me to do housework for 9 months?"

Aisha laughed. "There's actually a whole long list of potential kinks that the clients are welcome to select, but this one barely picked any. I think you're probably safe." She became serious again. "You really need to get out of here. I'm on their list. I'm in your records. It won't be long before they come looking, and you know what happens when they catch up to you." 

Liz stared at her darkly. "I guess it can't be worse than staying here." Then she sighed explosively. "Alright, fine. Hitch us up." 

Aisha typed out a series of commands without dropping eye contact and then grinned wickedly. "Congratulations, you are now Mrs. Shay Dax. Since your spouse is not here to do the honors, mind if I fill in?"

Liz tumbled her sideways on the couch. "One last hurrah before I ship out?"

"Something like that," Aisha smiled and reached for her.


	2. Meeting

It wasn't as if Shay was expecting fireworks straight off the ship. The truth was she was going stir crazy in a boring rotation of 10-hours shifts of grinding repetition coupled with 14 hours of downtime with barely anyone to talk to. Having someone around to fill up the empty nooks would be nice, and, well, seeing as her dating pool had dried up into a gasping, writhing mess of drama between too few people who none of them really liked each other, ab reath of fresh air would do a world of good. 

It's not that she wanted to hide who she was or what she did, but she hadn't exactly planned on falling asleep after end-of-shift and waking up in her dirty orange overalls with her braids a tangle, feeling grimy and like her teeth had grown moss. Still, that was what happened, and she woke to a knock on the door of her brand new living quarters, confused and disoriented. She cursed and rolled out of the doubly wide bunk, dropping the few feet down to the floor while collecting her hair on top of her head. The kitchenette along the far side of the wall was a mess - she hadn't had a chance to put everything away yet, and the couch section was stacked with boxes of clothes. 

There was a knock on the door again, more insistent this time, and she cursed and rushed to open it. She was groggily formulating an apology in her mind when she stopped short at the sight that met her. There was no doubt that this was a new resident, fresh-faced and standing in front of a collection of aluminum travel trunks in various sizes. There was also no doubt that she was not what Shay had ordered. "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong room," she said, hopeful to the last.

The stranger stared for a beat, then shook her head. "I don't think so. Shay Dax? I'm Liz Dion." She stood for another moment before belatedly extending her hand. 

Shay just looked. The Liz in the information packet had been undoubtedly her type; tall and curvy with a mass of tumbling blonde waves and a sweet smile. This Liz was short, shorter than Shay, and stocky with shorn sandy hair and a wry mouth in a pale freckled face. Shay was already feeling a sinking sensation of dread about the whole thing.

The strange Liz gave a defeated sigh and hung her head, which did nothing to alleviate Shay's apprehension. "Look, can I just come in for a second?" She glanced down the hall where a couple were strolling towards them, obviously curious about the new arrival. Shay hesitated, but she knew she had no real option here.

The stranger left her boxes in the hallway and stepped over the threshold. She rolled her shoulders back and stuck her hands in her pockets, but it was hard to tell whether it was an attempt at swagger or just a sign of unease. She pulled in a big breath. "Look..."

"No, you look!" Shay was suddenly angry. She closed the door with a clang. "I don't know what strings you had to pull with DestiStation to get here, but I am _not_ a happy customer. You cheated me." She poked the air in front of the interloper's breast bone. "You came here under false pretences, and I ought to send you right back where you came from."

"Yeah, I know." She looked almost genuinely contrite, but then she said, "But you can't. My travel permit only goes one way, and my entrance to this space station is contingent not just on our marriage but on your affidavit that we've met and have known each other off-station. The corporation doesn't pay spousal support just because its employees have grown blue balls." 

Shay knew she was only speaking the truth. She had committed perjure to get a wife up here, and if she complained or reneged in any way, she would not only lose her job and spend the time waiting for the shuttle in incarceration, she'd probably be turned into the authorities, who would probably not look kindly on the fact that she had a record already. Anger bubbled up in her like tiny bubbles of carbon and she closed her hand tightly in order to suppress it. 

The stranger noticed and held out a placating hand. "Hey, no, look, you have to believe I didn't just think this up in order to harass you. The fact is that I really, _really_ had to get away, and this was my best option." Shay forced herself to relax and gestured _go on_ with her chin. The woman looked at her with wide gray eyes. "The thing is... The thing is, I was set to marry someone else, but it... it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't, um, _my_ idea." 

It took a while for Shay to put the pieces together. There were still certain communities on Minerva who arranged marriages for their children. She didn't know the planet very well, but had seen some info films about it when she first came onto the station. Liz Dion didn't exactly strike her as someone who would let anyone tell her what to do, but what did Shay know about family. She turned and went to sit on the couch, shoving a box out of the way to do so. "Well, you're here now. And you know you're right - I can't do a damned thing about it."

Liz hadn't moved from her spot by the door. She had the decency to look quite sheepish about the whole mess. She clamped a hand to the back of her neck and turned a sad look on Shay, which Shay thought wryly must get her a lot of hook-ups. "I really didn't mean to get you in trouble. I was only thinking about myself and I apologize." 

"Well, you can apologize all you want, but it doesn't really change anything, does it?" Shay studied the close frame of her, strong shoulders and wiry arms, square jaw emphasised by the short haircut. "There's nowhere else for you to bunk than here. Spouses are expected to live together. I got an upgrade because of you." She gestured to the spacious quarters. Liz looked around with a slightly doubtful expression. "It might not look like much, but believe me, this is the king suite compared to what I've been used to." 

"You're welcome?" Liz offered a shy grin, and Shay felt a whole new wave of jealousy. She knew her type - hell, space was full of Liz's type. To Shay they made for good drinking buddies and usually, eventually (inevitably) bitter rivals. 

She rolled her eyes, and her her gaze landed on the small box sitting on the coffee table. She snorted and leaned forward to pick it up. She put her elbows on her knees and shook the box at Liz, quirking her eyebrows. "Somehow I don't think this'll be your style, but under the circumstances I'm not sure we should forego it."

Liz seemed to hesitate before shuffling over to take a closer look. Shay popped the lid off, and Liz huffed out a short, quiet laugh. Shay took another look at the ring. It wasn't ostentatious - she couldn't afford that - but she'd picked it out with a mind for another type of woman. The slim gold band had two small diamonds set deep; they caught the light and twinkled cheerfully. Liz nodded approvingly, though. "It looks good. I'm impressed. I mean, no offence."

"What, didn't think a sat grunt had the dough?" Shay smiled wryly. "The pay's actually pretty decent, and there's not much to spend it on up here." She looked at the ring again. "I thought I'd do it properly."

"That's very thoughtful of you." Liz looked at her kindly, and Shay had to steal herself to keep from squirming under that strange gaze. 

"Anyway," she nodded. "Best put it on, I guess."

Thankfully that shook Liz up again. "Oh, um, okay." She carefully picked the ring out of its box and slipped it on her pinky. "Thanks..." 

Shay stared at it. "You're welcome."


	3. Waking Up

Her life was spinning rapidly out of control, Liz thought numbly to herself. It felt like the universe had not stopped piling crap on her head since she first got the outrageous idea to hack the Conglomeration's servers and think she could get away with it. Then her ex-girlfriend had the brilliant idea of literally sending her into orbit, and now here she was - fake married to a surprisingly, outrageously gorgeous satellite grunt who hated her guts. She let out a despairing sob and flopped back into her blankets on the couch.

She thought maybe she could have handled everything okay - laid low here for 9 months and then sought passage back to Minerva and onwards to someplace else, preferably out of Glom reach - if only the unkind universe hadn't decided to saddle her with Shay Dax. Liz had basically left the hacking to Aisha, not daring to log onto any sys ad settings with Glom breathing down her neck, and she'd mostly been focused on securing a way off-planet, so she hadn't really thought much about what kind of woman would send away for a mail-order bride. But she supposed she had vaguely assumed that such a person would not be anywhere near as beautiful or naturally charming as the woman who had opened the door to these quarters a scant 12 hours ago. Even though she had been dressed in dirty neon-colored over-alls and a ratty white tank top, Shay had still taken Liz's breath away. It was obvious she was not a techie, in that outfit, and her arms had been surprisingly muscled for her lithe frame. Her skin was a dark brown, and her eyes were liquid and dark above lush, full lips. She looked like she could get anyone in any bar without even trying, and yet she'd been willing to cheat the system _and_ her employer just to get a date. Though, clearly she had not been expecting someone like Liz to show up. Liz rubbed a hand through her hair. It was going to be a long 9 months. 

After having accepted Shay's expensive wedding ring, they had gone back out to haul Liz's boxes into the room. To Liz it looked quite small, with a bunk against the back wall and a kitchenette along the right-hand wall, a small bathroom with a narrow shower cubicle off to the left. The small open space in the middle of the room held a couch and a worn coffee table, and next to the kitchenette was a fold-out table bolted to the wall with two stools pushed underneath. No window, of course, which was another thing Liz hadn't really thought about: No window, no view, no sunlight, no oxygen outside this oversized tin can. 

Shay hadn't said much, just helped her stack her boxes next to the door and briefly explained that she had only moved in herself a couple of days ago, which might have been an attempted excuse for the mess or just a stated fact. They had eaten some kind of bland powder soup, and then Shay had excused herself. She had gone to the storage space underneath the bunk and picked out a fresh set of clothes and then locked herself in the bathroom, leaving Liz to stare vacantly into space and feel jet lag and g-force catch up to her. She had almost been asleep sitting up by the time Shay had come back out, fresh and glowing from her shower.

"If it's okay with you I really need to catch some shut-eye. I run 10-hour shifts in maintenance, and I have to be back in 6 hours." She paused. "I guess you can sleep on the couch." She pointed to a pile of blankets and pillows that had been set out there. "Feel free to do whatever, use the bathroom, but keep the noise down. I'd advise against going exploring before I have a chance to show you around."

She had crawled up into the bunk and appeared to nod off pretty quickly. Liz had washed her face and dug out a night shirt and made up the couch. She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, suddenly aware of the weird engine hum that seemed to groan through the metal of the entire space station, but the next thing she knew it was 6 hours later and the door was clanging shut behind Shay, and she was alone in the room.

She didn't quite know why she had decided to be dishonest with Shay, but suddenly Aisha's blithe assumption that anyone with a record would be willing to host (marry!) a fugitive hacker who had tangled with the system's largest and most powerful group of corporations seemed far too naive. People who crossed Glom went missing. Hackers and activists regularly disappeared without a trace, and the government was powerless to investigate and stop it. Liz was walking directly into the life and home of a person she knew absolutely nothing about, except that she was willing to lie to authorities and import a wife without even talking to her first. Liz was beginning to feel she was in way over her head.

She was becoming more and more aware of the fact that she knew next to nothing about sat life. Shay had advised her to stay inside, and now she wondered whether it was actually dangerous to venture out there. Could she push the wrong button and accidentally be sucked into space? The only thing she'd seen of the station was the arrival bay and the long empty corridor of the living quarters. She hardly even knew what it was they did out here. She knew most space stations served as communications outposts and that some of them also functioned as customs check points and research facilities, but the limited access to this place seemed to suggest they mostly did com work.

She stared at her boxes and at the general mess of the place. Then she dug out her tablet and hooked up to the local network, thinking she would search out some info about the sat station. Apparently Minerva Satellite Station D-5 was owned and run by an independent contractor based on Jubilee, Minerva's second-largest moon. They offered a range of telecommunications services, which was the core function of the station. In order to support that work they employed a wide range of technicians, mechanics, and menial laborers to keep the station running. It wasn't long before she was carefully poking around in the code, looking the admins and office personnel over the shoulder, generally getting a feel for the set-up.

Hunger was slowly starting to creep up on her when the door suddenly opened and Shay marched in. Liz looked up in surprise, checking the time on her padlet to make sure she hadn't accidentally been noodling around for ten hours - it could have happened. It had only been five hours since she woke up. 

Shay stared at her. "Well, I'm glad you've made yourself at home," she said sarcastically, indicating the general mess of the place. 

Liz felt ire rise up in her. She put the tablet away and stood up awkwardly in her t-shirt and shorts. "Now, look here, missy. Just because you were expecting some long-legged bimbo to come up here and wait on you hand and foot doesn't mean you can just expect me to do all your dirty work." 

Shay's face darkened and she stepped closer. A waft of engine oil met Liz's nostrils. "No, _you_ look here. Don't you _ever_ call me missy again. I know your type, but if you think you can come here and take over, you've got another think coming. I am not expecting you to "wait on me", but I _do_ expect you to remember that _I'm_ the only one of us bringing home a pay check, and I do expect you to show some basic gratitude."

Liz turned away from her and sniffed. "I was _going_ to unpack, but you could at least let me get my space legs under me first."

Shay huffed but seemed to deflate a little. "I came to ask whether you wanted to go to mess for my lunch break. I don't really have anything on stock."

"Oh, well, yes." Her own behavior suddenly struck Liz as embarrassingly impolite. "Thank you. I'm pretty hungry actually... Just, um, let me put on some pants."

Shay turned around without another word and went to wait by the door.


	4. Mess

The bending corridor was narrow, with narrow high-set doors that were interspersed with painstaking regularity all the way along the hall. The floor was painted gray with the walls a dull beige, and along their upper parts and the ceiling ran countless wires and pipes, giving the place an unfinished feeling. "Under construction?" Liz asked, pointing up.

Shay glanced up, shook her head. "Just utilitarian."

"Doesn't that get... dull?"

"I like it." They kept walking, and Shay glanced at her out the corner of her eye. "I should probably prepare you. The station is a small place. We're about 160 people here. Everyone knows who everyone else is. There's not a lot of mobility - most people are on half-decade contracts, but some end up staying longer. I've been here two years. Spouses are allowed, but children aren't. I think there are about 20 spouses here at any given time - obviously they can leave whenever they want, and they mostly don't stick around for many shuttle turns. The hierarchy is pretty flat. Wai is in charge, she handles all disputes. Each crew has its own boss and it's own rotation. I'm maintenance class 2, I do engine work and logistics. Class 3 does cleaning, and class 1 is sanitation and electricity. Every person is essential to the operation, and every person gets the respect they deserve. Still, as I said, small place. You gotta figure out how to make it work." She looked at Liz. "I hope you're not a combative person." 

They had arrived at the end of the hallway, which opened up onto a large, busy common area with tables and chairs. To the right was a buffet counter with a view of a large industrial kitchen behind it. The mess was abuzz with people, and the food smelled wonderful to Liz, who had only had pre-packaged meals since she left Minerva. The line was pretty short, and Shay handed her a tray and got to waiting. It was almost like she was wilfully ignoring everyone around her. Several people were staring at them, and Liz had the distinct impression that they were quick becoming the topic of conversation throughout the room.

"How many spouses were on my shuttle?" she asked nervously. 

"Only one," Shay replied grimly. 

"I guess I'm big news?" she tried to make it a joke, but failed spectacularly.

"The biggest. Bigger when they get a load of you."

"I'm really not your type at all, huh," she said wryly. 

"What are you talking about, baby, you're exactly my type," Shay replied in a dull voice and then gave a fake smile. Liz rolled her eyes, and Shay stepped in close. "Better ham it up, or management will soon have reason to start questioning us." Liz tried to laugh and put her arm around Shay's waist. Shay's whole body was stiff, and Liz hadn't felt this awkward about touching someone since she was 15 and Tommy Wu had mistakenly thought they were on a date. 

The line moved quickly and as soon as they had their food, Shay led them to an empty table off to the side. "Just try to ignore them and maybe they'll leave us alone," she muttered. Liz was hungry and found it easy to concentrate on her plate.

They weren't alone for very long, though. "Shayyy," came a sing-song voice, and Liz looked up to see a tall, gangly young man with a huge grin splitting his face staring down at them. "So, this is the one? Did you think you could keep her all to yourself?" 

Shay seemed like steam was about to come out of her ears any minute. "Oh, I'd hoped. Sit down already, you're making it worse." 

He laughed and set his tray down next to Liz. "Hi, I'm Andrev. I am Shay's friend. You will notice I did not say "a friend of Shay's", because that would be inaccurate."

"Stop it," Shay begged and actually seemed as if his light teasing was embarrassing her. 

"Oh, I'm sure she knows you're a wonderful person! She's here, isn't she? I just wish Ilana was here to meet her as well, but _it's her first shift_!" The last part of his sentence rose into an excited pitch.

Shay looked at Liz. "Ilana is Andrev's wife. She's been here two turns, and now a position has opened up."

Andrev nodded. "She's officially gone from spouse to crew! It's very exciting. M3!"

"That's Maintenance 3," Shay explained.

"Cleaning?" Liz asked.

"Well, look at you, all well-informed! I am duly impressed. But so you see, Shay's wife, it's not just a dead-end existence of unpaid domestic labor and old-fashioned pseudo sexual slavery. There's hope for a dead-end career as well!"

Liz stared at him. "Wow, aren't you a barrel of fun." She held out her hand. "I'm Liz." 

Andrev shook it solemnly. "Welcome aboard the D-5, Liz Dax." He got a terrible glint in his eye. "So. How did you two meet?"


	5. Fishy

A jag of pure panic went through Shay. "Um, we..."

"A bar," Liz interrupted, leaning back in her seat with a hand stretched across the table towards her. The hand wearing the wedding ring, Shay observed with another wave of panic. "Yeah. Cliché, but there you have it. Three years ago, was it, sweetie?"

Shay stared at her and nodded dumbly. "Yes."

"Aw, that's nice. And you stayed in touch all this time?" Andrev was not letting them off the hook. His gaze was whipping back and forth between the two of them, and Shay had rarely felt more caught out. Who did they think they were kidding?

"On and off," Liz replied cooly. Shay gave her a furtive glance. She didn't quite have this woman's number yet - one moment she was cool as could be, and the next moment she was a flustered mess.

Andrev smiled. "Well, I think it's nice Shay has some company. It can get mighty lonely in the circuit."

Liz seemed to cast her a surreptitious glance at that, and Shay suppressed a sigh. She supposed it was only fair that her plan had backfired so spectacularly. All she had wanted was a chance at something nice and uncomplicated to sweeten her stint on this light-forsaken satellite. She should have known better, she thought bitterly. 

They had finished their meal and were leaving when Liz directed her attention across the room. "Who's blondie over there? She hasn't stopped staring the entire time we've been in here."

Shay barely had to look and turned away quickly so she could grimace without being seen. "That's Yvie. Please try to steer clear of her? This probably looks pretty fishy to her."

Liz seemed to square her shoulders. "She's going to try to sniff us out?" Shay shrugged. Liz gave a long look. "History?" Shay rolled her eyes. "Okay, duh." She looked back over her shoulder and gave Yvie an evaluative once-over. "Nice." 

Shay covered her irritated scoff by throwing an arm over her shoulders. "You better keep your pants zipped for a _long_ time, or Yvie won't be the only one who gets suspicious."


	6. Ouch

Life as a mail-order bride on a space station in orbit around a sleepy little planet was mind numbingly boring. Liz had been aboard the D-5 for a week, and time was measured in a never changing pattern of Shay leaving for and coming back from her shifts. She still didn't dare to do much online, but she did spend an afternoon fashioning a short coded message to Aisha and sent it pinging through an intricate pattern of servers: 

_Arrived safe. Everything okay. Will surely die of frustration, professional or sexual yet to be determined._

It didn't take long for a reply to reach her: _Thanks for update. Am composing eulogy in prep. As-salamu alayki._

The professional frustration was genuine. She had spent her first few days reading as much about the satellite and what it did as she could find in the public domains. After that she had spent a few aggravating hours cleaning the apartment, twiddling her thumbs, and nearly reading a book, before she had admitted defeat and very, very carefully hacked her way into the satellite's programming interface. She poked around a little, studying the general workflow of the crew, but it wasn't long before her fingers were itching to fix their mistakes and streamline their processes. 

But if Glom had any sense at all they would be randomly accessing and evaluating all kinds of code samples, expecting her to be unable to stay away from hacking for long, and knowing that her style would soon give her away to bots. She ended up copying over select sections of the station code and started working on a separate, unlinked test version just for something to do. It wasn't long before she was happily running a number of side projects to optimize results.

The door clanged open and Liz jumped in her seat on the couch and checked the time. End of shift. A very tired-looking Shay entered. Her work clothes were streaked with gray, and her braids, which she had scrunched into a bun, were coated with white dust. There was an endearing stroke of greasy black across her cheek, emphasising the gentle slope of her wide nose. She paused just inside the room and looked blearily at Liz. She seemed to waver on a decision and then said, "Honestly, I don't know what it is you do all day. I was expecting to see you at lunch."

Liz flexed her hands and shook out her shoulders, blinking dumbly. They had met for lunch in the cafeteria on all the other days, but today she had lost track of time completely. She stared at the screen. "I... forgot."

Shay sighed. "You don't say." She moved slowly across the room to the wardrobe space below the bunk and pulled out some fresh clothes. Liz had to crane her neck to see. "I'm gonna change for dinner. I would really... appreciate it if you would join me." She stood rigidly and didn't turn to look at Liz.

"Of course." Liz didn't know exactly how to interpret her tone and felt weirdly subdued. 

Shay nodded. "I mean, it's not just _my_ project here," she mumbled and walked slowly towards the bathroom, unzipping her safety-orange jacket on the way. Liz was just about to form an indignant reply, not least to distract herself from the imminent revelation of supple skin, but when Shay moved to shrug the jacket off she groaned in pain. 

"What happened?" Liz said in stead. 

"I just took a little tumble. It's nothing." She finished easing the jacket off, and revealed a large blue bruise already forming on her shoulder blade underneath the tank top.

Liz hissed in sympathy and made to get up. "That does not look like 'nothing'." 

But Shay's hand shot out to still her, and she said sharply, "I don't need your help."

Liz let her hands fall into her lap and sat back on the couch. Shay crossed the threshold to the bathroom and closed the door with a slow, deliberate movement. Liz sat for a moment, absorbing the sting of the rejection and feeling like things were slowly getting worse between them. 

The sexual frustration she had half-jokingly mentioned to Aisha was fast becoming a source of self-doubt to her. It was one thing to be forced into celibacy because of the conditions of her stay on the satellite. It was quite another to be confronted with the beauty of Shay every time she saw her and continually experience her matter-of-fact rejections. Liz had always been largely happy with herself, secure in her own skin, and she wasn't used to taking anyone's disinterest so hard. But then, usually it was pretty easy to move on to the next likely partner, while here she was stuck constantly breathing the same recycled air as Shay. It was just as well she was no glutton for punishment - a few more outbursts like the one she'd just been met with - and that was even her simply trying to be helpful - and she figured her brain would soon catch the drift and lose interest.


	7. No-Man's Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself I would not be the author of incessant chapter notes, but here we are. The long wait is maybe over (as in I might be getting back into the swing of this thing), and this chapter is sad and probably not what you were hoping for, sry.

Shay turned slowly from the door and unerringly caught her own eyes in the mirror above the small metal sink. Her hair was a mess. She was a mess. She twisted gingerly in order to examine the bruise, but although it was already purpling and welting slightly under her fingertips, she knew she had taken much worse. She needed some painkillers, a shower, and a hot meal and she would be good to go tomorrow morning. This job, regardless of how many bruises she collected while doing it, was still much to be preferred over the one she had left behind. She took one last long hard stare and set about getting in order.

She had almost managed to forget her curt interaction with Liz while letting the water wash the plaster away, but she sensed a definite change in her when she finally went back out to the main room. Where before Liz's flustered and somewhat apologetic body language had given quickly way to concern at Shay's injury, now she seemed cool and distant. They walked quietly side by side to the mess hall, going through all the motions of picking and consuming their meal in almost complete silence. 

Shay had the feeling she ought to at least try to make conversation, if not for their own comfort then at least to keep up appearances, but her skin was beginning to tighten with cold in contrast to the blossoming heat of the bruise on her back, and all her muscles were aching. She had no energy left to pretend anything. If people wanted to be suspicious, so be it. Liz scraped her plate and seemed almost wilfully sullen. Shay felt her mouth flatten into a tight line but was helpless to stop it.

As they returned to the room, she was even beginning to find Liz's breathing annoying. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the ring on Liz's hand glinting on the scratchy cobolt seat like a mine in the stretch of no-man's land between them. Shay pulled up a movie on the entertainment center, but even that small action was tainted by her guest (her wife!) peering gloomily at her selection. 

For a split second she thought it would be easier to simply end this whole farce. That way she she could at least go back to inhabiting a single room. These days it felt like this stranger, this interloper who had sabotaged her last bet at something pleasant in this dead-end job, was there every time she turned around or opened her eyes. Shay couldn't remember the last time she had felt so oppressively lonely without actually being alone.

She watched the movie without seeing it, sitting it out like a personal punishment and then went directly to bed without another word being uttered between them. She dozed off immediately but dreamt about running, screaming, explosions burning at her back. 

She was tired and wrung out and feeling mean about it the next morning, but no matter how much she neglected to be careful and quiet in getting ready, Liz just kept right on snoring. She really wasn't a morning person, but then it wasn't like she had any reason to be, when all she had to do was lie there and let Shay keep her in food and shelter. 

The door gave a ringing bang as it fell shut behind her, and she almost collided with Gizem who was also on her way to shift.

"Hey, you look pretty wrung out," Gizem grinned, her substantial body jiggling as she moved out of the way. "How's the bruise coming?" She made as if to pull out the neck of Shay's jacket and take a peek down her back, but Shay twisted out of her reach and then immediately regretted it when her shoulder twinged. She grimaced and then grunted noncommittally in answer. 

Gizem gave her a thoughtful look. "I'm no expert, but shouldn't the whole having a wife aboard thing be making you look _happy_ and wrung out?"

"Well, as you say, you're no expert," Shay replied, wishing her co-mechanic would disappear.

"I mean, I can understand wanting to hole up in your fancy new digs and getting re-acquainted, which I know is a euphemism for sex, because I'm not clueless," Gizem continued. "It just seems odd to me that she's been here over a week and barely been outside."

Usually Shay found Gizem's straight-forward chatter a refreshing change from all the drama and circumspection that took place on the sat. Gizem's loudly proclaimed disinterest in sex and relationships had made her a safe harbor for Shay on more than one occasion. She sighed. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm sore and I'm tired, and I just want to get this shift over with."

"No worries," Gizem said kindly. "Hey, I know just the job for that! I have a giant box nuts and bolts that need sorting." She wiggled her heavy eyebrows so hard they almost disappeared into her cropped hairline. "Whataya say, huh? Huh?"

Shay couldn't help but laugh. It sounded like just the kind of uncomplicated task she needed to get her mind off Liz.


End file.
